Lengthy, polysyllabic words tend to provide narrow, very specific meanings. Indeed, as a general rule in semantics, the lengthier the word, the fewer its alternative meanings. It is as though each added...

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By
Stanley M. Aronson
Posted Apr. 28, 2014 @ 12:01 am

Lengthy, polysyllabic words tend to provide narrow, very specific meanings. Indeed, as a general rule in semantics, the lengthier the word, the fewer its alternative meanings. It is as though each added syllable to a word diminishes its menu of meanings.

Words such as mandibulate, emancipate or manubriate rarely provide more than a single meaning; the monosyllabic man, on the other hand, offers a tapestry of interpretations.

Very short words have been put to an abundance of uses. Consider, for example, the English word if. The term came to contemporary English via Old English as gif; and thence to yif; still as an interrogative term, its closest synonym being “whether” or “on condition of” or even “perhaps.” As with many words from Old German, the initial letters were eventually dropped, as spelling belatedly followed how the word was spoken.

The current usage of the word if is marked by subtle variants of conditional presentations, contingencies awaiting future decisions and as the opening word in complex expressions of causality. It is a frequently employed word whether in books of geometry, children’s fantasy texts or even the Bible (where in the King James Version “if” is used 1,950 times).

Some examples of if’s versatility follow, acknowledging that such examples are merely illustrative:

I’ll vote for you only if you wear purple bonnets. [Only if.]

She vowed never to leave Rhode Island even if tennis playing were made illegal. [Despite reality, even if.]

Has any legislator earnestly looked for Jimmy Hoffa? And if not, why not ? [If this be not true.]

Are you planning to join the Pawsox at age 57? And if so, what position will you play? [If this be true, as an open, uninflected question.]

I doubt if any seniors are interested in sky-diving. [If this not be so, but other choices still remain as possibilities.]

Global warming: If that isn’t the silliest notion. [Offering an unconditionally negative opinion.]

If an anarchist is elected as mayor of Providence, then the entire city will sink into Narragansett Bay. [An unconditional if-then declaration.]

It would be a shame if turnips were outlawed. [Introducing a future possibility, not yet a reality.]

Would it not be appropriate if Lincoln be impeached as a war-monger? [Introducing an unexploited possibility, expressed in negative terms.]

If I were king, samba-dancing on Tuesday night would be made illegal. [Describing a consequence after a wholly unlikely event.]

And then there are those oft-repeated adages, aphorisms and proverbs that litter our daily conversations. Most of them are so corroded by thoughtless overuse that they have been reduced to clichés. For some curious reason, many begin with the word if.

Examples of “if” adages: “If the shoe fits, wear it.” Or, “If push comes to shove.” Or, “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.” Or, “If worse comes to worst.” And then one must acknowledge those “if” phrases that so often introduce a partisan expression: “If truth be told . . .” Or, “If not now, when?” And certainly there are the many conditional hopes, often expressed as remote likelihoods, such as “If I were king . . .”

The accommodating English language lets us use words such as if, but and yet to provide needed nuance to our conversations — and sometimes intentional ambiguity to our forthright assertions. Without these subtle modifiers, our language would sound much like a catalog of farm machinery. Indeed, there are no “ifs, ands or buts” about it, the English language is a living organism.